Page 11 of Wandering in Love

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Page 11 of Wandering in Love

“Miller Sheep Farm,” a woman’s voice fills the line.

“Marcy, this is Sheriff Rojas. Looks like some of your sheep have taken a walk to Main Street.”

“Shit. I’ll get Robbie and the boys out there as soon as I can find him to start herding them.”

“We’ve got some Ryan sheep out here too, so check your fence line over on that side.”

She sighs. “I will. Thank you, Sheriff.”

“You’re welcome.”

We hang up, and I dial the Ryans’ ranch, relaying the same information.

When I hang up, I see we’ve already got a few guys on horseback and dogs pushing the herd back the way they need to go. I nod as they pass, and they wave back. One of the amazing things about small towns is everyone’s willingness to help. At some point, everyone needs a bit of help. Whether it’s a lost animal, a broken fence, or a leaky pipe, we take care of each other. We may fight amongst ourselves sometimes, but when it comes down to it, we help out.

Within the hour, people on horseback have come from all over, checking side streets for sheep that got separated and pushing them back toward the herd. It takes a bit of time, diverting traffic, but the sheep are back where they belong. The Ryans and Millers will have to check them and separate out who belongs to who, but that’s their problem, not mine.

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted and no closer to finding a solution to my Eva problem, but Momma has informed me she’s having dinner at the house to welcome my girl home and I better be there.

Chapter Six

EVA

When I get back to the barn a few hours later, Will is filthy with a fat lip and a bruise on his jaw. I’m not sure what happened, but I’m willing to bet Ian was here. Those boys used to fight all the time. Ian would be upset about something and search out his little brother to work it out with his fists.

Ian has always been bigger, but Will is scrappy.

Bandit doesn’t need much more cool-down time. We walked the entire way back, and it’s cold today. I need to get him stripped of tack and watered and brush him out, then he’ll be good to go back to his stall for the night.

I’m sweaty despite the freezing temperature, tired but centered. I know I need to talk to Ian and Momma, explain what happened and why I left, but being home, being back, is so damn healing.

Stopping at a water trough, I hop down and wince. My thighs are sore from being in the saddle. I give myself time to stretch, petting the soft fur of Bandit’s neck.

“Such a good boy.” I smile at him.

“He give you any trouble?” Johnny asks.

“Nope, he was a perfect gentleman.”

“Good, I would hate for him to misbehave his first time with a new lady.” He flirts, winking at me. Is there something in the water around here? What is with all these men?

When Bandit is done drinking, I lead him inside toward the stall and tie the reins to a hook high on the wall. It’s like riding a bike, untying the straps of the saddle. My muscles remember what they’re doing, even if it’s been years since I’ve done it. When I reach for the saddle to remove it from Bandit’s back, Will grabs it. He winks at me as his arms bulge, carrying it into the tack room and setting it down to air out.

He hands me a brush with a smirk, his fingers brushing against mine.

“You won’t be winning the next beauty pageant with that shiner.”

“I don’t know. The ladies dig a bad boy.” His smirk turns into a smile. “You only saw Ian through the rain, huh?”

My face heats, hearing my lie on his lips. “I said what I said.”

“That’s why he came in here looking for a fight? You blow him off or something?” He’s watching me, reading the lines of my face.

I swallow before answering, last night playing in my head. “Or something.”

He nods, more to himself than to me. “If you’re spoken for, it would be best to not keep it a secret. You know how small towns are. You’ve been gone a long while. All the boys are going to be sniffing around for fresh blood.”

He’s pushing me into a corner, and I hate it. With anger flaring in my veins, my hand holding the brush falls from Bandit’s back. “I am not a damn piece of meat, William Rojas. You will do well to remember that.”




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